


Butterfly Snippets

by homeschoolvaledictorian



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Romance, Team Bonding, Team as Family, we have it all folks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2020-06-24 13:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 15,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19724179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homeschoolvaledictorian/pseuds/homeschoolvaledictorian
Summary: They may be a team, but they're also a family and they prove it everyday. Drabbles.(Cross-posted from FanFiction.net.)





	1. aberrant

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Young Justice.
> 
> Most of these drabbles were written a very long time ago for a challenge and posted on FanFiction.net. I'm just now cross-posting them on AO3. I won't be editing the previously written ones, which all take place pre-Season 2. All subsequent drabbles written could take place throughout any of the seasons.

_aberrant: straying from the right way_

~*~

“Where d’hell are _you_ going at three thirty in the morning?” a slurred voice asks behind him, amused. “Do you, like, wait for bank robberies to happen or something?”

His hand tightens around the slip of paper he shoved into his pocket a few seconds ago. He turns around; all his usual self, casual and flippant, but he thinks something must be showing on his face because she’s narrowing her eyes at him blearily. He blinks back, all innocent thirteen-year-old charm. “Couldn’t sleep. I have a few errands to run tomorrow, so I decided to get started on them now. Early bird gets the worm and all that jazz.”

She doesn’t look impressed. In fact, Artemis looks sleepy and frazzled and out of place. She doesn’t sleep many nights at the Cave. When she does, it’s because they’ve got a mission early in the morning, which they don’t. He guesses that maybe she had another fight with her mother this week, but he learned a long time ago that there are things you just don’t ask. “I doubt it. The post office doesn’t open for a few hours, Wonder Boy.”

An exquisitely awkward silence follows.

“So what were you doing—”

“I was, uh, going to—”

_Um. Well._

Artemis looks _really_ confused and _kind of_ suspicious now, and Robin’s trying to find a quick _(lie)_ way to explain his late-night exploits. Any way, anything to buy him enough time to get to the teleporter—

She makes her own retreat. “Well…whatever it is, don’t be out too late, ‘kay?”

“I won’t be.” He spins on his heels and makes a break for the teleporter.

“Robin?”

He turns around. “Yes?”

She bites her lip. “See you later, I guess.”

He smiles faintly. “You’ll see me in no time, Artemis, I promise.”

She doesn’t return it, and just stands there while Robin disappears in the white glow of the teleporter. Artemis goes to bed, but doesn’t sleep for a very long time.

~*~

When she sees him, hours later, kicking and clawing for release from Batman’s arms and yelling someone’s name _(Zucco? Who’s Tony Zucco?),_ she somehow isn’t all that surprised.

She still isn’t surprised when she hears about what he _(almost)_ did.

~*~


	2. absolve

_absolve: to pardon an offense_

~*~

It’s another Biayla.

Well, sure, different time, different place and all that jazz, but take out the specifics and it’s all the same. There’s no memory blanks, thank God, so no raging Superboy, but best Wally can figure is that he’s stuck in the middle of a desert with his least favorite person: Artemis, or as her prefers to call her, Snarky-mis. It’s a _much_ better name.

Actually, he’d rather not remember her right now. Where was Psimon when you needed him?

“Where are we?” she mumbles, pushing herself up into an awkward sitting position with her elbows bent at funny angles. Wally surveys their surroundings, which is a few outcroppings of dusty rock, lots of sand, a desert sunrise, and that’s pretty much it. Which is, you know, not good.

“Dunno,” he responds, fatigue coloring his voice. He feels like an infant’s plaything, which is somewhat equivalent to being tossed into a potato sack and thrown repeatedly over a cliff, which is somewhat equivalent to frolicking through a field of rusty daggers, which is—

Oh. He’s rambling. Better check for a concussion later.

“Um, we should call M’gann or something.” Artemis picks herself up all the way and stumbles to her feet. “Lemme see if I can—”

“Already tried,” Wally interrupts. “Nothin’. She must be out of range.”

“Maybe you can run around and I can check for a signal. She can’t have gone too far,” Artemis winces, and Wally vaguely reminds himself to check _her_ for a concussion. Jeez, the thugs sure had been generous spreading the love via head injuries.

“Um, kind of a problem with that.”

“What now?” she groans, and a surge of irritation roils in his stomach.

“I don’t have any juice,” he says tensely.

“Like…none?”

“Like the fastest I could manage right now is a limp.”

“Let me get this clear.” Her voice is _dripping_ with sarcasm and he dimly hopes she chokes on it. “You have no ‘juice?’ At all?”

“Yeah,” he replies, testily because it’s been one of those _looong_ days. “I just spent three hours zipping ‘round baddies, got knocked on the noggin pretty damn hard, and woke up four minutes ago with the most annoying person on the planet. In the middle of the goddamn _desert_. So _yes,_ I’m out of juice. Didja get all that? Need me to spell it out for you or something?”

Okay, it’s harsh. _He_ even figured that one out. Her face folds into something blank, a flat line that he doesn’t recognize.

“Artemis, I didn’t—” he starts.

“Yes, you did.” She turns away, _walks_ away, looking for something in the rocks he doesn’t see.

Wally’s never been good at apologies.

He blurts out, “I didn’t mean it. Artemis, I—I know I’m not always the most…civil…with you, but…I mean it. I mean, I _didn’t_ mean it. That’s what I meant by saying I didn’t mean it. I just—”

For like the third time in the last five minutes, she interrupts him. He flinches, preparing for a bitchslap from (admittedly) the toughest girl he knows. It wouldn’t even really hurt if he knew she wasn’t mad at him any more. “Wally, I get it.”

Wally blinks once. Twice. “…um. Okay. Glad we got that out of the way.”

She smiles wryly. “Don’t try it again and we’ll be good.”

He kind of smiles back.

~*~


	3. acumen

_acumen: shrewdness_

~*~

It only took about two weeks for Wally to discover the greatest thing about Superboy: his force-fed intelligence about every school subject imaginable.

English lit terms, math symbols, conjugating Spanish verbs—you name it, Superboy could give you a dictionary-perfect definition or explanation or whatever you needed. Who was Wally to occasionally take advantage of this? Well, let’s face it—he was practically a _saint._ He didn’t take advantage of Superboy _nearly_ as much as any normal teenage boy would. Of course, Rob was like a freaking genius and Kaldur didn’t even go to regular school, so they totally didn’t count. But Wally—well, he was just an average schmoe. He had his trademark scientific brilliance (that was a given, of course) but in every other aspect he was a regular high school kid. He totally held himself back with the strict self-control of a monk.

…Or, you know, something that had a lot of self-control. He didn’t claim to be a poet.

And that was why he needed Superboy right now. This poetry crap was kind of due tomorrow and he didn’t really have it done. Or any of it, in fact.

Wally arrived at the Cave in his usual flurry of speed and with a hastily formed plan. It was simple: interrogate-but-don’t-interrogate Superboy about the instructions on the assignment paper he’d received a couple weeks before. As far as Wally could tell, it was written in code, but hopefully Supey would have a bit more of a clue.

He began to prepare. Wally dumped his backpack’s contents on the Cave’s living room’s coffee table, making sure the assignment paper was lying on top of all his books with a few handy pens nearby. He grabbed a snack (two bananas and a bag of chocolate chip cookies, a nice start for a snack he supposed) and waited, munching loudly.

Sure enough, Superboy ghosted in, silent and swift. His destination appeared to be the remote on the coffee table, right where Wally’s stuff was. _Perfect._

“Hey, Supes,” Wally said casually, leaning right over the remote. Supes grunted a reply, trying to reach around Wally. Wally only grinned and leaned back, holding the device in one triumphant fist. “Looking for something?”

Superboy scoffed. _What the hell, since when does Superboy know how to scoff?_ Wally thought. _What’s next, actual sarcasm?_

Interrupting his thoughts, Superboy said, “Are you using that?”

_Time to bullshit._ “Why yes. Yes I am.”

Superboy stared at him, and it occurred to Wally that if they were on Animal Planet, Superboy would probably be an opossum or something—you know, the animal that pretends to be dead so you would leave it alone. _Tough luck, bub._ “…There’s a special on quantum entanglement today.”

Superboy continued to stare.

Wally sighed, long-suffering. “…But I’d be willing to let you watch what you wanted…if you help a bro out with some homework right now.”

The clone’s reaction never wavered; he just continued staring at Wally like he was the static on the TV he wanted to watch so much. Wally felt an angry blush spread up the back of his neck. Why wouldn’t the guy just take the bait?

“Listen, Supey,” Wally snapped. “It’s not that hard, seriously. You help me, I help you. You want to watch your show…er, static, whatever, and I want to finish this homework. You get what I mean?”

Superboy plopped down on the couch next to him. A good start, right?

Wrong. Superboy pried the remote from Wally’s surprised hand within a few seconds, and then calmly turned on the TV. “I’m not going to help you cheat on your poetry project, Wally.”

“Please,” Wally whined, desperately begging for mercy. “Supey, this is my life on the line here! If my English grade falls any more, my parents will kill me. Or not let me go out on missions. Or both!”

“Then go ask M’gann,” Superboy responded bluntly. “She’d be more willing to help, and she likes English class better anyway.”

Wally blinked. “…That’s actually not a bad idea. Thanks, Supey!”

Wally’s stuff went flying as the speedster raced away. _“M’gaaaaann! I need your help with something!”_

Superboy kicked his feet on top of Wally’s schoolbooks. “…it should probably take him a good half hour or so to figure out she’s visiting Mars. Should be long enough to watch my show.” Almost grinning—but not quite, because Superboy didn’t do things like _grinning,_ more like smirking—Superboy let the sweet sound of static fill his ears.

~*~


	4. advocate

_advocate: one who pleads another's cause_

~*~

“I know this looks pretty bad,” Robin began.

“It looks absolutely _hellish,_ Wonder Boy, so get out of my way or die!” Artemis growled. She certainly looked a bit hellish, dripping with egg whites and a yolk dissolving in her hair and standing over Robin with a thunderous scowl. Robin gulped and stepped back a step or two, trying not to let any of the stuff drip on _him._ He didn’t have a change of civvies here. _Thank you, Kid Dumbass._

Artemis leaned in close. “I _know_ you’re sheltering him somewhere. And I will find out. Maybe not this moment, maybe not even today, but I’ll find out and _you both will pay.”_

She stomped away towards the zeta-tubes. Robin allowed himself a little relieved breath and pulled out his cell phone as soon as he was sure she was gone. Dialing a number impatiently, he waited until the hare-brained speedster picked up. “Hello?”

“You are a goddamn menace, Wally West, and I’m totally not saving your ass from Artemis this time around,” Robin snapped. “So pull yourself together and _stop hiding under my bed!”_

~*~


	5. altruistic

_altruistic: concern for the welfare of others_

~*~ 

“Something about this is off, babe,” Kid Flash commented idly, scratching his head. He squinted at the ruins of the jewelry shop window, broken glass glittering on the sidewalk with the red light of blazing store alarms.

“I…agree with you,” Artemis replied, sounding surprised at the seemingly impossible feat. She crouched, fingering a gold bracelet studded with lapis lazuli. “I hate the cliché, but it’s too quiet. Shouldn’t there be, I dunno, more criminals around a crime scene?”

“Nothing really seems to be missing,” Kid Flash said. “I mean, the cases are broken, but I don’t think much got stolen. Maybe nothing at all.”

Artemis stood up, dropping the bracelet and pulling out her bow. “Whoever did this, they can’t have gotten far. I’ll check the back alleys, you go look down at the docks nearby. And don’t forget, we’re supposed to meet up with the others at about ten o’clock, ‘kay? Group patrol and all that.” Before Kid Flash could object, she was gone.

Kid Flash shrugged and made to turn for the docks. He was interrupted by his own foot catching in a rope loop and dragging him upside down ten feet in the air. _“What the fu—!”_

“Oh, naughty, naughty,” a teasing voice reprimanded him and Wally felt his stomach brush up against his throat. “No cursing, little boy.”

_Well, shit._ “This is the oldest, lamest trick in the book,” he said, irritated. “Do villains, like, have contests about how cheesy they can make their schemes?”

“You still fell for it, as I knew you would. You should really work on that,” a voice purred, six inches from his ear. He couldn’t resist flinching a little.

“What exactly do you want this time, Cheshire?” Wally moaned, feeling the blood rush to his head. “Artemis is fine—no cuts, no bruises, no psychological trauma, no anything. So why do you keep on having these interrogations—I’m sorry— _‘inspections?’”_

“I need to make sure you’re taking care of her properly. I’m sad to say it, Flash Boy, but you’re my best bet for her near-constant protection.”

“I can take care of my own girlfriend!” Wally yelled furiously. “Cut me down!”

“Not until we get a few things straight.” The voice lowered dangerously, but Wally just rolled his eyes. “First of all, are you sticking to my golden rule?”

Wally face-palmed. “No, we don’t have sex Jade. No, I don’t force her into doing anything she doesn’t want to. Yes, I would take a bullet for her. No, I would not, by any circumstances including death, cheat on her and break her heart. Yes, I know you would rip out my testicles, mangle them, and shove them down my throat if I did, along with a lot of other varieties of torture. Did I cover everything?”

Cheshire, forever smug, said, “No. Do you remember when your anniversary is?”

Wally scrunched his eyebrows together. “Like, when we started dating?”

“Yes.”

“Is that important or something?”

A hand smacked him on head, hard. _“Yes.”_

“Alright, alright!” he whined. “Um, is it…the 18th…no, the 19th…of April?”

“Yes, Wallace, in fact it is. How many days is that from now?”

“Um, probably like two weeks…” His eyes widened almost comically. “Oh crap!”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

With a small _schnick_ sound, the rope was cut and Wally smothered a yelp as he struggled not to land on his head. He pushed himself to his knees.

“You’re semi-decent, Wallace, so I’ll give you a chance. But. I’m watching you, and don’t forget it.” With those lovely parting words, a black kimono-draped figure sprinted from window ledge to window ledge until they were out of sight. Wally didn’t bother to pursue; he just sighed and stood up, dusting his hands off. Wearily, he activated his Martian-made mind-link with Artemis. _Don’t bother looking for the culprit, babe._

She responded immediately. _What? What’s going on?_

_Just meet me with the others at the park. I’ll explain then._

_Alright._ With a slight buzz, she retreated and his mind was his own again.

_Dating a girl from a family of assassins might be harder than I thought,_ Wally groaned to himself. He zipped towards the park, hoping Sportsmaster wouldn’t try to gut him for dating his ‘baby girl.’

Again.

~*~


	6. ambiguous

_ambiguous: difficult to understand_

~*~

She’s looking shifty, casting her eyes over every crack in the wall rather than meeting Dinah’s eyes. The pen in her hand feels useless, and Dinah pushes the pad of paper away. There doesn’t need to be any records of this moment; both of them will remember this for a long, long time.

Zatanna stares back at her, pulling at the loose fabric of her jeans with tight fists. She begins, and the tapestry of lies they’ve weaved within the last week-and-a-half flows from her mouth. By now, it’s _almost_ effortless.

“Three weeks ago my father was killed,” the girl opposite her repeats, trembling ever-so-slightly. “He died…died in a fire, and—” she breaks off, just for a second. “And I’m living with some distant relatives until further notice.”

“Very good.” Dinah leans forward, steepling her fingers. “That’s what you can tell anyone who asks.”

Zatanna just nods. She starts to stand up, then pauses. There is a question dancing on her lips.

Dinah knows it won’t be something she can answer.

" _Is it wrong that I would have rather let the world burn than lose him?”_

~*~


	7. amorphous

_amorphous: having no definite form_

  
~*~

The purple luster of the paint is fading, the glistening violet dark and still against the shadows he tosses around the room. There are traces of her everywhere; indentations in the carpet where heavy furniture once stood, brighter patches of wall where she tacked posters, chips of plaster in a corner that she kicked on her way out of her room, her home, and his life.

He leans against the door frame, staring into the empty room that once housed the incredible, indescribable Zatanna, teenage magician extraordinaire, and wonders why he wasn’t enough for her to stay.

_I would’ve been anything for you._

He closes the door on his way out.

~*~


	8. arduous

_arduous: requiring great exertion_

~*~

“This is a good idea _why_ again?” Superboy asked in his usual blunt fashion, (seriously, was there any other way Superboy said things?) standing near the edge of the pool with a wary expression.

“Oh thank God, we’re finally questioning what the hell we’re doing here,” Kid Flash complained. “I almost thought we were all insane for a second there.”

Kaldur did one of those not-quite-an-actual-smile-but-close-enough things and assumed a proud stance in the water, hands on hips and feet spread apart. “Wally, I assure you that I am a highly capable swimmer and a competent teacher as well,” Kaldur said calmly, surveying his ‘class.’

“Oh, I don’t doubt you for a second, Kal.” Wally waved his hands blithely. “But if you’re just giving Supey swimming lessons, then why the hell are me and Rob here?”

“Rob and I,” Robin corrected, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet and looking longingly at the diving board.

“You can’t say a prefix correctly to save your life, but you’re a grammar nazi.” Wally rolled his eyes. “I live in a world of dingbats and crazies.”

Robin was instantly in Wally’s face. “Was that some sort of lame attempt to be punny? Because I _will_ kill you for that.”

“Ahem,” Kaldur said, because he’s a badass and can say that kind of thing and not get a dirty look for it. The three other boys snapped to attention; well, Superboy stood there like an uncomfortable automaton while Wally and Robin jumped theatrically and saluted Kaldur simultaneously. Kaldur pretended not to notice.

“Bat puns aside, we will begin now. I believe working on strengthening your endurance first is a good tactic,” Kaldur said, pointing towards the water. “Jump in.”

“Do we have to?” Wally asked, shifting from foot to foot. “’Cause, I mean, I _totally_ know how to swim and stuff, and I, uh, kinda have an experiment going on in my room right now and if my mom discovers it, it’s another two weeks grounded—”

“Stalling,” Robin sing-songed.

“Wally, if you don’t know how to swim, I assure you—” Kaldur began.

“Never mind,” Wally groaned despairingly. “It’s not like I was actually gonna do anything early Saturday morning, except for—you know—sleeping.”

Superboy looked a bit perplexed before his face lit up in a way that was as obvious to the other boys as if Superboy had said _Eureka_ _!_ or _ding!_ or whatever Superman clones usually said when they learned something. “That was sarcasm, right?”

“Yes,” Kaldur said, growing impatient. “Good job, now jump in.”

The three boys waiting by the water dropped the towels around their waists, revealing three _very_ different sets of swimming attire: Batman-themed trunks, tacky red-and-yellow Flash trunks, and a Super-Speedo (you can just guess what _that_ is).

However, no swimsuit matched its expected counterpart.

Each boy fairly _squeaked_ at seeing the other boys’ swimsuits. Robin gaped at the Bat-style trunks Superboy was modeling. Wally almost choked at seeing his beloved Flash-patterned trunks on Robin. Superboy wheezed at the Super-Speedo Wally was sporting—wheezed in laughter.

“That’s where my swimsuit went!” Robin cried, outraged. “What the hell, Superboy? I was looking for that for ages!”

“Same here, you hypocrite!” Wally cried in response. “Why did you steal _my_ swimsuit?”

“Oh. Mine was missing,” Robin shrugged. “Had to use something, even if that _something_ is gaudy and _waaay_ too bright.”

Wally bristled. “That’s _genuine_ Flash memorabilia, thank you very much—”

“Wally, why are you wearing my swimsuit? I only used Robin’s because mine was missing,” Superboy said, then paused in realization. “Oh…”

The three boys exchanged glances, narrowed their eyes, and turned to glare at Aqualad, who had wisely swum away during their plot-unraveling conversation.

“What—oh my God!” all three boys yelled simultaneously.

“That scoundrel!” Robin seethed. “Did he seriously just—just—”

“Yup,” Wally said grimly, watching the last ripples in the water disappear like a scheming mischievous Aqualad had never even been there. “Comrades, I do believe revenge is in order.”

Superboy, Robin, and Wally prepared to dive into the water, when Superboy froze suddenly. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to attack him in his natural environment.”

“What—oh, right,” Wally said. “So you _do_ watch something other than static.”

“Of course,” Superboy snorted. “Why would I sit around just to watch static? I only do that to freak you guys out.”

Robin sighed. “Well, Discovery Channel is an acceptable substitute for homework and training, I guess.”  
“Not really.”

“…No, but that’s how we’ll present it to Black Canary. There’s a special on red pandas that I’m not missing for anything, and that even includes petty revenge.”

“Oh, you’re good.”

“Thanks.”

“So it’s kind-of-unofficially-agreed?” Superboy asked. “We watch Discovery Channel for red pandas and then we plot revenge?”

“Sounds good!” Wally waltzed to the door leading from the pool to the living room. “I’ll make popcorn!”

“You probably—we _all_ probably—should change first,” Robin recommended, gesturing at the Super-Speedo Wally had forgotten about.

“Oh God, yes!” Wally blushed and sprinted from the room, Robin on his heels.

Superboy stood next to the pool for a moment, contemplating his attire. “Nope, I’m good.” He exited, following his nutball friends to the living room, hoping for a slice of Megan’s chocolate cake and a cold glass of milk to go with red pandas and Batman swim trunks.

Aqualad popped up from the deep end of the pool, smirking lightly. “I’d better copy this footage off the security camera before Robin destroys it,” he chuckled to himself, exiting the pool and thinking that it had been about time that he got to be the prankster of the team.

~*~


	9. assuage

_assuage: to appease_

_~*~_

This was her fourth batch of blueberry muffins and they _still_ tasted like failure. Well, M’gann supposed it was failure because according to Artemis, blueberry muffins weren’t supposed to taste like ashes.

“Oh,” she said heavily, dropping the oven mitts. “Maybe…maybe this recipe isn’t right. Maybe _I’m_ doing something wrong, I don’t know…sorry, Artemis—”

Artemis waved a hand carelessly and smiled. Her warm gray eyes rose to meet M’gann’s own, and M’gann felt herself involuntarily blush in shame. “They’re fine, Megs.”

“No, no they’re not!” M’gann moaned and telepathically threw the mixing bowls into the sink with a loud clatter. “They’re terrible and _I’m_ terrible at this and we’re out of blueberries again and—”

She was interrupted by Artemis hopping from her stool and reaching for the tray, dumping it upside-down to make a pile of misshapen blueberry lumps. She crammed some of them in her sweatshirt pockets, held a few more in one hand, and shoved the rest across the table to M’gann. M’gann telepathically picked the muffins up, hesitantly levitating them in the air next to their shoulders.

“—and baked goods make great ammunition,” Artemis finished with the best kind of sparkle to her eyes; conspiratorial, _sisterly._ “The boys are busy training, right? They’ll _never_ see us coming.”

She extended a crumb-coated hand in invitation.

M’gann grinned and took it. “Let’s go.”

~*~


	10. atrophy

_atrophy: wasting away of the body_

~*~

“ARTEMIS!”

Artemis threw up her hands in exasperation, the white light of the zeta-tube fading behind her. She’d been in the Cave for a grand total of five seconds before Kid Doofus’s voice had ruptured her eardrums. _This is what happens when you leave the Dumbass Duo alone for twenty minutes while you pick up food._

Artemis contemplated the idea of _just not buying anymore food,_ so Kid Flabby would have to go buy his own Cheez Whiz and Mountain Dew. Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea, not a bad idea at all—she was sure that if she could convince M’gann and Conner to go without grocery runs for a week, Wally would hang out here _much_ less often. _I am a fricking genius,_ she thought, pleased with herself—that is, until she heard Robin and Wally’s panicked screeching again.

Artemis groaned. There was only one person who could handle this situation the way it should be handled: Artemis herself. Conner was too easily led astray, M’gann was too trusting, and Kaldur was too inclined to just let go whatever stupid scheme they had cooked up; he wasn’t around enough to see all of the crap Robin and Wally put the other inhabitants of the cave through.

The kitchen was a mess. Artemis sidestepped a puddle of orange soda and kicked her way through a sea of candy bar wrappers until she’d made a neat little trail through the post-apocalyptic ruin that had once been M’gann’s pristine kitchen. Artemis sighed. If the kitchen was this bad, who knew what the living room looked like? _Wait, don’t ask—_

‘War zone’ seemed a bit inappropriate, if only because it was a massive understatement. Artemis had no idea how they had destroyed the room so easily in twenty minutes, but then again, they hadn’t exactly been keeping it clean before she had left either.

The living room was dark. That was probably a blessing given that she could feel the crunch of _something_ —trash, M’gann’s favorite china bowls, newspaper, Conner’s pet turtle Fabio—beneath her feet. There were no lights on except for the vivid glow of the television, but the room was bursting with the sound of pure unadulterated havoc. The music of their paused video game dimly played in the background, but that wasn’t anything Artemis noticed. No, the _real_ show was just beginning now that the idiots had an audience.

Robin, fake-sobbing, was poised over Wally’s prone yet moaning body. The speedster’s head was buried in a cushion, his arms hanging limply from the couch. It might’ve been heartbreaking, Artemis concluded, had she been someone who didn’t know Robin or Wally at all.

Artemis dropped her grocery bags on the coffee table, preparing for the inevitable. She towered over them, trying to gain as much authority as would be required to shame them into maybe sulking and cleaning up their pigsty.

“What did you morons do?” she growled.

Robin gasped theatrically, throwing a hand to his forehead in some dramatic impersonation of a Southern belle. “Thank goodness you’ve come, Artemis!”

“What is his problem?” Artemis asked, knowing that getting straight to the point often cut about ten minutes of useless chatter out of these things.

Robin sniffled. “He—he doesn’t have enough…” He trailed off in another sob. Artemis rolled her eyes.

“Enough of what?” she asked, pretending to be bored.

“ _…food.”_

“Didn’t you hear me when I left? I said I was getting more food,” Artemis replied, annoyed.

Kid Flash gave another piteous moan. Robin looked embarrassed. “Well…yeah. But…he, uh—”

_“What?”_ Oh, this had better be good.

“He can’t eat any more food,” Robin said miserably.

Artemis didn’t— _couldn’t,_ actually—speak. Robin went on.

“He’s still hungry, but he says that if he takes another bite he’ll explode! You see our dilemma, right? It’s a classic Catch-22! If Walls doesn’t eat the food, he’ll starve. But if he does, he’ll implode—”

“I thought you said he’d explode.”

Robin waved a hand. “Same difference. But you gotta help us, Artemis! Please! He won’t last much longer like this!”

As if to back up his point, Wally let out a tortured cry. Artemis remained unmoved. In fact, she was fuming.

“I got more food for you idiots so you might shut up,” she said slowly, _dangerously_. “But if you don’t want it—”

“No!” Wally shrieked. “We— _I_ —want it!” He made a mad jump to snatch the grocery bag.

“Then shut up!” she yelled, ripping a bag of pretzels from the grocery bag and dumping half the bag into Wally’s mouth. Wally gagged and pretzels flew all over the carpet. He sat up fast and barely managed to swallow them. Wally looked alright for a moment, until his eyes widened and he yelled, “Drink!”

The speedster zipped to the sink and shoved his head under the faucet.

Robin watched, appropriately awed. Artemis watched with an earned sense of smugness. _This_ was how you dealt with Rob and Wally’s crap. Who said violence wasn’t the answer?

“Wow, I’m impressed,” Robin said. “Not many people can leave Wally _choking_ for words.” He cackled and leaped away, pulling out his trusty grappling hook. “But you still get to help him clean up the mess!” With a smart salute, the little bastard was gone.

Artemis seethed. Oh, _hell_ no. She strode over the sink, pulled Wally’s head back, and gestured towards the garbage disposal that had once resembled their living room. “See this?” she said. “ _You_ are cleaning it up. Every. Last. Soda can.” With that, she stomped away.

Wally massaged his throat. “Robin freaking _planned_ this,” he grumbled. “That little manipulative jacka—”

On cue, a birdarang and an arrow smacked him in the chest, knocking him down.

“I thought I told you to shut up!” a distant voice called from the hallway.

~*~


	11. autonomy

_autonomy: independence or freedom, as of one's actions_

_~*~_

“We can show you the sun.”

Three eager faces looking at him expectantly, _shining._ He blinks and realizes, _yes,_ they’re real and unfamiliar and they don’t belong down here trapped behind those glass shields, not like he does. Their skin isn’t synthetically pale and cold to the touch, not like his. Their eyes are filled with this genuine _care,_ this utterly alien emotion pulsing from their heartbeats like he’s never heard before. This is wrong, wrong to see them like this, like—

_…butterflies pinned to the wall._

He blinks again, but they’re still there.

Redandyellow is twitchy, squirming and twisting as if he could _vibrate_ right out of the metal cuffs. Silvereyes is gazing at him with an oddly serene expression. Littledarkbird is concentrating on his own cuffs, fiddling around with some sort of lock pick and trying to break free. Which is silly, because he never will, not from Cadmus cuffs—

“Aha!”

Superboy marvels, because sadly it the most beautifully simple piece of magic he has ever seen. An implanted memory calls forth a name: Houdini.

All this knowledge, but he doesn’t really know what it means. Not really.

_I want to see the sun._

Later, as Superboy looks over his new team _(family),_ he decides that the moon works just as well.

~*~


	12. aversion

_aversion: antipathy_

~*~

“Does it ever bother you?”

Robin leaps over a gap between two buildings. “Does what ever bother me?”

Artemis is right behind him, tracing his light, light steps over the derelict concrete roof. “I don’t know. Gotham in general, I guess.”

Robin considers this, slowing only a fraction. “Well…no. Some of the people are kinda crazy and evil and hate my guts, but… I don’t hate Gotham. Never could.”

They race through the night, a cool breeze running against their faces. Artemis blinks hard, feels her legs burn and leans into her stride. It’s a good night for this sort of thing. “I do.”

“Hm.” Robin flips over the edge of a tall building and gracefully lands on the next one. She simply jumps and lets the impact be absorbed through the balls of her feet; it’s not a high jump, he’s just a showoff. “I could understand why. To tell you the absolute truth…”

Robin pauses and stops, fluidly arching his body high over the busy streets like a…well, like a bird ready for flight and all she can think is _God, this is what he was meant to be._

She skids to a stop beside him. “A Boy Wonder secret. I feel privileged.”

Robin laughs a normal laugh, not one of his creepy cackles. She likes it. “As you should feel. I don’t just hand this kind of stuff out freely, you know. Anyway, I didn’t grow up in Gotham.” 

This makes her stumble a bit. “ _Really?”_

He shrugs. “Nope.”

“It just seems like—I don’t know. You kinda belong here. It doesn’t seem like Batman was ever without a Robin, you know?”

Robin stiffens a bit, and then relaxes. “Gotham…it’s hard to explain. She’s _my_ city. Batman’s city too, of course, but you know what I mean. This is where I was born.”

Artemis is confused. “I thought you said you hadn’t grown up here.”

He gives her a significant look. “This is where _Robin_ was born.”

“Oh,” Artemis says. There’s not much to say to that except that she thinks she might understand, eventually. Robin nods, and for a moment they both share that same spark of understanding.

“Shall we continue on?” she asks playfully. It’s only one in the morning, after all, and there is such a long night ahead. “That is, if secret time is over.”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling back and she can see the tension slip off of him and is glad for it. They actually feel like friends instead of just teammates, which is something that has…never happened before.

Artemis and Robin fall back into a steady rhythm, and as they’re suspended in the air between the next two buildings, he speaks. “Thanks for coming on patrol with me, Arty. Bats would kill me if he knew, but I like the companionship.”

“No biggie,” she quips. “You’re buying me coffee later anyway.”

He laughs again. There’s a scream ahead of them, and she already feels the arrow beneath her fingertips and spots the shine of red metal in his hands. Together they dive into the alley below.

If Robin’s got her back, she’s ready for anything.

~*~


	13. bastion

_bastion: a fortified area_

~*~

“I don’t think this is a good idea, KF.”

“Pssh. Course it is.”

Robin peered worriedly through the lone crack in their ridiculously large pillow fort. “M’gann’s going to discover they’re missing soon.”

“What? No,” Kid Flash scoffed, waving a hand carelessly. “She’s not gonna be back for ages, remember? Cheerleading prac—”

“WALLY!”

Robin gave Kid Flash a pointed stare. “Ah, the sound of failure.”

Kid Flash blushed, and then remembered that he was _Kid Flash_ and literally the fastest boy on Earth and this wasn’t going to be a problem. “Shut up. I got this, bro. Just watch me.”

Robin crossed his arms impatiently. “Oh, I can’t wait to watch this, believe me.”

With a gigantic _fwoosh,_ their pillow fort exploded. The speedster and the acrobat looked up to see an angry Martian in the doorway of Wally’s seldom-used Cave bedroom. Robin sighed and adjusted the utility belt slung over his shoulder. He should’ve changed out of civvies, ‘cause this wasn’t going to end well.

“Where. Are. The cookies,” M’gann seethed, eyes blazing. “Wally, I told you those were for Superboy’s sixty-fourth release-from-Cadmus anniversary!”

“Did you…? Ah, I must’ve forgotten, beautiful,” Wally threw her a wide grin that probably would’ve gotten him out of trouble, except for the fact that he had cookie crumbs all over his face. What? M’gann had gotten _good_ at baking cookies.

The normally sweet and passive Martian wasn’t amused. M’gann held out her hand, demanding the tray Wally had stol— _borrowed._ The speedster groaned.

“Come on, you make those for him every day!” he protested. “I just wanted some for me—and Robin too—”

“Don’t drag _me_ into this.”

“And _Robin_ wanted cookies too,” Wally finished, flashing a smirk to his best friend. Robin facepalmed.

M’gann’s eyes glowed white and Wally felt fear flutter in his stomach. “Well, good afternoon, babe!” he said cheekily. Without a warning, Robin jumped onto his back piggyback style and Wally let his feet launch them through the hallways to the zeta tubes.

“Where to?”

“Gotham City!” Robin proclaimed, flipping off Wally’s back to activate the zeta-tube. “As I have programmed, it shall happen!”

Wally and Robin heard the angry yells of M’gann behind them. She was only a few seconds away from destroying their plot, and that wouldn’t do at all.

M’gann burst into the room. The speedster and the acrobat screamed and held each other tight in a way that might have been considered comic, but was actually done out of pure terror. Martians on rampages were freaking _scary._

They were still screaming when they appeared in an old phone booth. Robin came to his senses first and pushed Wally off of him. Wally could feel the thrill of adrenaline burn through his veins.

“Bro fist!” he yelled. They bro-fisted.

Wally did a little victory dance out of the phone booth. “Yeah! VICTORY IS OURS! Got the cookies, Rob?”

“I thought you had the cookies.”

“WHAT?” All that planning, all that strategy, all that running, all for nothing—

“Just kidding. Slipped ‘em all into my belt before we left,” Robin said proudly, holding up a baggie of gooey chocolate chip cookies ready for devouring. He shook it in Wally’s face. “Would I let you down?”

“Yes!” Wally fist-pumped the air, his grieving gone in an instant. “I _knew_ I could count on you Robs!”

“Yeah, well, that’s good because we probably can’t enter the Cave for the next week without being maimed,” Robin shrugged. “You win some, you lose some.”

“Suppose Alfred would let me have some of his cookies?” Wally asked hopefully, walking out of the dingy alley into the dingy Gotham City sunshine. Robin laughed manically beside him.

“That depends,” Robin said slyly. “How many household chores are you willing to do?” 

~*~


	14. carte blanche

_carte blanche: full discretionary power_

~*~

Kaldur likes to think he made the realization right after one of their average missions—little scavenges no one quite remembers the details of, and thus are unremarkable in the scheme of things. One of the fun missions, where Artemis and Kid Flash bickered and Miss Martian swooned over an oblivious Superboy and Robin was very spirited and—what’s the word?— _trollish_ about the whole thing, as Artemis calls it.

Kaldur has grown to love these missions the best. They are exactly what he wants to remember about his new team, because he knows all good things come to an end but he’ll be damned if this one ends on _his_ watch.

All he really remembers was that it—the realization, that is—happened a few days after a visit to Atlantis. Visits to Atlantis were no longer a treat; he didn’t dread them, but they brought him no pleasure either. Seeing your first love and your ex-best friend fall in love was far from anyone’s favorite hobby. Kaldur was pretty tired of watching Garth and Tula blush and flirt with each other constantly. He wasn’t _that_ patient.

He came back tired. And after that mission, that mission no one remembers but him—when Kaldur was preparing to report to Batman, he turned around and he _saw._

Robin and Kid Flash were goofing around—turning handsprings and running ‘victory’ laps respectively. They high-fived and grinned at each other and were the best of friends. Kaldur saw that, that camaraderie that he realized extended to _him,_ because they turned around to smile at him. It hit him like a punch to the gut, because he had never thought they would look at him like anything other than the strict team leader he tried to be.

Across the room— _simultaneously—_ he saw Artemis double-checking her arrows, mumbling under her breath about the ones she would have to replace. M’gann walked up to her and they started talking. Out of the blue, they _laughed._ It was a surprise for him to watch Artemis laugh, but it was M’gann’s laugh that surprised him the most. It was loud and sweet, like church bells, and much more daring and brash than he had taken her for.

And there was Conner, who had walked up to him and apologized for erupting in one of his usual rage-fueled fits. That had _never_ happened before. That’s when Kaldur knew: he no longer needed them.

Tula and Garth, who had descended into their own comfy private life that he had no part of and for once, it was _more_ than okay with him. When had that happened? Kaldur no longer wished to laugh with Garth or kiss Tula. He had something new, something he’d once viewed as a nice distraction that had rapidly blossomed into a—a what? A family? Did he really have a family?

Robin, the determined, agile bird with the quirkiest sense of humor Kaldur has ever encountered, who can be very immature most of the time but has surprising bouts of wisdom to share and comfort his leader with. Kid Flash, the impulsive and brash speedster who, though he doesn’t let it show, loves to do little acts of kindness and love for his teammates; who records all the nature shows Kaldur likes and always leaves him the last slice of the pineapple upside down cake he knows Kaldur loves. M’gann, sweet and charming, who just wants to do her best and make a new life out of a bad past, and Kaldur just knows all about that. Conner, who is silent and strong and wants to learn more than anyone else. Artemis, who shoots flawlessly straight and runs on the straight-and-narrow despite her criminal connections and is never sorry for it. _Roy,_ who Kaldur trusts like nobody else and would follow into hell.

He remembers that right after that mission, he called for everyone—even Roy—and asked they meet for food somewhere. And they came, and let him choose where they ate, and they got takeout and sat on a roof of a building overlooking the bay of Happy Harbor and watched the fiery sunrise and the ocean that mirrored it.

Nobody remembers that mission like Kaldur, and nobody ever will.

_Hey Kal, you wanna come watch a movie with me and Megs and Rob and Arty and Supes? Lots of salty popcorn, just how you like it!”_

_"Yeah, Kaldur! It’s gonna be asterous! You don’t have to finish the mission report, I’ll finish it later.”_

_"Oh, Kaldur! Pleasepleaseplease!”_

This will not end on his watch.

~*~


	15. catharsis

_catharsis: purgation_

~*~

Dim ruby red rays of sunrise are just slipping over the horizon when he enters the Cave showers. He bars the door, stripping off his gloves and running his fingers through his ash-stained hair. His hands are shaking.

He can’t go anywhere else. There are eyes everywhere, people trying to help him and save him and build him a wall he can hide behind like a coward. This is him saying _no, I won’t;_ he ran, and this is where his feet took him. This is where they told him he had a home-away-from-home, and he’s calling them on it.

All he wants is a shower, one good shower, and he’ll be gone.

Hot water soothes his aching muscles as he leans and stretches, trembling in the pre-dawn darkness. There is no one else here but his team, he reminds himself as he breathes in deep, grateful. The steam filters out his lungs, so it seems, and he feels anew.

Though the blood on his hands isn’t coming off.

~*~


	16. circumspect

_circumspect: prudent_

~*~

“What in the world—?”

Green Arrow stopped in his tracks. He didn’t visit the Cave often, but on occasion he came to chill with the youngsters and supervise their training with his beautiful girlfriend. The only problem with it was that the Cave’s inhabitants were…odd. Not just superhero odd. _Odd._

There was his ‘niece,’ Artemis, who he loved like a real daughter. But she was…seasoned. She was the biological daughter of a ruthless mercenary, and obviously that came with social and psychological issues. Artemis was tough, smart, and loyal, but he sometimes couldn’t get over the fact that she tended to flip people over her shoulder when they startled her.

There was the new kid, Superboy…what did they call him? Conner? Yeah, it was Conner. He seemed like a nice kid, but kind of prone to insane fits of rage. That was a bit terrifying, especially when Ollie just wanted a glass of orange juice and Conner gave an almighty roar and tossed the entire pitcher at his face. Other than that, a real sweetheart.

Kaldur was a safer bet to be around. Unlike Conner, he was calm and unshaken by small emergencies, and was a blessing for the bigger ones. The kid was a true leader with a pure heart. However, he was gone a lot, off to Atlantis to visit his friends. Most of the time, the craziness that Ollie observed at the Cave happened because Kaldur wasn’t there. Since Kaldur wasn’t there a considerable amount of the time that wasn’t spent training or on missions, there was a lot of crazy shit that happened on a semi-regular basis. Sometimes Ollie called ahead just to make sure the Atlantian was present. He reckoned it had saved his life more than a few times.

M’gann (without that sarcasm he would usually use with Conner) was a sweetheart. Seriously, every time Green Arrow dropped by the Cave, she would offer him cookies or brownies or muffins or whatever the hell she had baked. They were a little…crispy, perhaps, but the thought was what counted. However, the girl had the somewhat scary habit of accidentally reading minds. Green Arrow had been caught ogling his girlfriend a bit too inappropriately more than once, and the Martian girl had never let him forget it.

Ah, Robin, a familiar face. The kid had been around for ages, though he certainly didn’t look it, little squirt that he was. Robin was as clever as a fox and twice as quick, and could take down anyone from a pack of frenzied thugs to a wild Superboy with his acrobatic fighting abilities. He was certainly a brilliant superhero, which was why Ollie supposed he was in the business. The kid was also a notorious little shit when you had to babysit him. He was always hiding or playing word games or rigging bets and it was a veritable hazard to Ollie’s health to watch over him for even an hour. Robin was also secretive and paranoid, traits doubtlessly inherited from Batman, and it usually ended up showing. Green Arrow had once picked up a hoodie of Robin’s, and not knowing whose it was, began to search the tag for a name. Halfway across the room, Robin had shrieked and thrown a Birdarang.

The freaking tag only said _Robin._ Seriously. He got a Birdarang to the face for _that._

Kid Flash was definitely a lot more like Ollie in a lot of ways, so naturally he liked the kid. He was charming (albeit in kind of a sleazy way) and a flirt. He was constantly trying to be the funniest guy around, and he didn’t have much competition considering Kaldur’s lack of time spent in the Cave and Conner’s lack of…well, a sense of humor. If he did have one, Ollie never saw it. However, like every other resident of the Cave, Wally wasn’t completely normal. Or sane, actually. He was Robin’s best friend, so that automatically made Ollie start sweating. The kid loved pranks and more importantly, people to pull them on. He was also a miniature mad scientist, just like his dear old uncle, and the combination of that and his association with Robin made him a menace by default.

But those kids—man, he had to admit that they made a spectacular team. Spectacularly weird, anyway.

He considered the scene before him. Three gallons of yellow paint were slowly dripping down the walls and the remains of—was that a chocolate cake or a chicken carcass?—were all over the floor. Christmas lights were half-strung along the ceiling. Conner was carting boxes away while Kaldur was sighing dejectedly. Robin and Wally were busy cutting out paper snowflakes, seemingly without a care in the world. Artemis and M’gann were nowhere to be seen.

Ollie opened his mouth to speak.

Wally shook his head sadly. “It’s no good, GA. We tried so hard, but it just didn’t work out.”

Wisely, Ollie turned on his heels and ran towards the zeta-tubes. This was someone else’s mess to deal with.

Nice kids. Crazy, but nice.

~*~


	17. cognizant

_cognizant: aware_

~*~

The first time he sees her, he’s out on the field for the first time, fifteen years old and nervous as hell. Which is silly, because it’s just a little robbery, one common-as-dirt jewelry store that no one will think twice of. Besides, he’s almost sixteen and kids get jobs at sixteen. It’s like a tradition. Even if the jobs _he_ works aren’t really of the legal sort. When his dad asked him if he was ready to enter the family business, Cameron had just kind of shrugged about the whole thing. _C’est la vie,_ right? What else would he use his cool mutant ice powers for? Pssh, certainly not for being a superhero.

So yeah, he does what his dad always does, granted with a bit less style, flair, and/or intimidation. Puberty is a bitch, and it’s hard to make clerks take you seriously when your voice cracks. But the point is that he gets away with it, and that’s a couple hundred dollars pay and his mother’s birthday present. All in a good night’s work. This is totally worth it. Today, a jewelry store. Tomorrow, the Crown Jewels or maybe some of the Fabergé eggs!

And as if fate had smiled down upon him that day, even more luck comes swinging his way. _Literally_ swinging, actually. She looks about his age, dressed completely in black, but her most noticeable feature is this fluffy golden ponytail that is just…whoa. She’s clearly a badass. She’s with another dude, some really buff guy that’s probably her mentor because she’s carrying a bow. That’s hot.

They’re running from something. That makes her even hotter, because not only is she his age and attractive, she’s, like, a thief. Like him. That’s kind of a rare combination, believe or not. She’s a beautiful thief who looks like a ninja with a badass bow.

Cameron is kind of dazzled, so he’s still frozen when they pass by him. The girl is giving him a weird look through narrowed gray eyes and seems about to stop to ask him what the hell he’s doing until her mentor snaps, “Come on, Artemis. We don’t have all day.”

The girl— _Artemis—_ nods to her mentor and spares him one last glance as they both melt into the night beyond Cameron. It’s so surreal he can’t move for a minute or two.

Once he shakes himself out of a starstruck stupor, he stares after her, still holding his goodies.

Months later, he hears about Sportsmaster and his talented protégé/daughter Artemis. The products of his next jewelry raid land right outside her window, with a little handwritten card signed _Love, Icicle Jr._

~*~


	18. condone

_condone: to pardon an offense_

~*~

The blast radius had been much wider than the team expected it to be. The island had been set to blow, and when Robin had pronounced the bomb impossible to disarm, they had known there was nothing left to do. The bad guys had cleared out at the first sign of trouble and had doubtlessly escaped. The mission was a bust.

Unfortunately, they—the team, that is—were not completely out of the blast zone yet.

The explosion ripped through the jungle from the center of the island, heat searing the air behind them as they ran desperately for the bioship. _I wonder what it looks like from above the island,_ Artemis thought detachedly as she stumbled over underbrush and finally spotted a heavenly glimpse of twilight-dimmed shore. _Maybe like one of those fire lilies blooming in a time lapse._

She looked to her left and saw Superboy supporting a sweating M’gann. Looking to her right, she saw Robin fluidly navigating his way through the jungle, showing a clear path for Kid Flash and Aqualad to follow.

They burst onto the beach, running the last few feet to the bioship’s welcoming extension of its ramp. Artemis quickly coaxed all of her team members into the ship, and was about to leap aboard when the door suddenly retracted, throwing her into the ship and sending her body tumbling across the floor. She sputtered and glared silently at the floor.

“Sorry,” M’gann apologized tiredly from her captain’s chair. “I got a little excited.”

“That’s fine,” Artemis said primly, doing her best to retain dignity while she stood up shakily. She had finally gotten to her feet and was about to plop into her chair when the bioship swung to the side to avoid a chunk of falling debris.

“Gah!” Artemis slammed against the wall. “M’gann, what the hell?”

“Sorry, sorry!” M’gann squeaked, looking extremely repentant. “I think I’m still dizzy.”

“It’s fine,” Artemis sighed, rubbing her many, many bruises.

“I’ll drive!” Wally volunteered.

“Over our dead bodies,” the rest of the team said as one.

“We’ve had enough accidents today,” Artemis grumbled under her breath.

~*~


	19. criterion

_criterion: a standard rule_

~*~

“You are seriously the worst sport about anything _ever.”_

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Pssh.”

“No, I’m serious. I don’t think I’ve ever played a game with you that didn’t end with you cheating or rage-quitting.”

“I don’t rage-quit, that’s Roy’s job.”

“Who’s the moron that threw my Scrabble board in the kitchen sink when he didn’t get the points for ‘obsequious?”

“I deserved those points!”

“Wally, ‘obsequious’ doesn’t have a ‘j’ in it.”

“Says the kid who couldn’t speak English until he was nine!”

“…”

“That went too far, didn’t it?”

“Yep.”

“Sorry, Robs.”

“Sure you are.”

“What—no. We’re not playing the guilt game. No way.”

“I guess I’ll just haul my foreign-speaking ass over to Barbara’s. _She’s_ never thrown my Twister spinner out a window.”

“Dude, it was the _first floor.”_

“Yeah, in the middle of a thunderstorm! Those things aren’t exactly waterproof!”

“You were cheating.”

“How do you even cheat at Twister?”

“By being a freaking ninja-acrobat-contortionist.”

“Dammit, Wally, it’s not even a board game.”

“I know, and you still won. I’m going to find something you can’t win.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I mean it. You name it, we’ll play it.”

“Fine. I wanna play poker.”

“ _Hell no._ You count cards.”

“I call it ‘giving myself a helpful advantage.’”

“You would call it that, mathlete.”

“ _You_ said I could pick whatever.”

“No card games. Traditional board games.”

“Monopoly.”

“Oh puh-lease, don’t be so mainstream.”

“I feel an overwhelming urge to choke you right now.”

“Too many rules, anyway.”

“It’s not that complicated.”

“You don’t have a three-second attention span like I do, man. Trust me, too many rules.”

“No Twister, no Monopoly, no card games, and definitely no Scrabble. I don’t think we have a lot of options here, Walls.”

“Apples-to-Apples?”

“That’s only fun with the whole team.”

“Battleship?”

“You’re so predictable that it’s a joke.”

“I am not!”

“Seriously. You always line your ships in one corner, usually the lower left hand corner. It’s like dropping bombs on a preschool playground.”

“You’re horrible.”

“I know, right?”

“I think that’s why we’re friends.”

“Pretty much.”

“You know what…not really in a board game mood. Wanna go get triple hot fudge sundaes?”

“Eh. Sure.”

“Well, hop on board the Wally Express—”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Uh, what?”

“Your wallet. You’re paying for my banana split. And bring lots of money, because I will be smothering it in toppings.”

“Dude, you could afford the entire ice cream shop!”

“But I’m still guilt-tripping you. I demand ice cream.”

“But!”

“Serve my will.”

“…You’re horrible.”

“Well, you’re right about that at least.”

~*~


	20. cul-de-sac

_cul-de-sac: any situation in which further progress is impossible_

~*~

“C’mon, what are you hiding from me?”

Robin’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing. Really, Wally.”

Wally stared accusingly back at Robin. “You’ve _never_ kept anything from me. Not even your secret identity. You trust me, don’t you?”

“This isn’t my secret to tell,” Robin answered flatly. “I’m good at my job, and that means I don’t just go around blabbing about very private affairs that are none of my business.”

Wally looked back at him, confused and a little angry. “You were oh-so-willing to investigate the other day.”

“I was. I’m over that.”

Wally slumped against the countertop. The clock behind him read 4:00 P.M., blinking in neon red. “You already know everything, don’t you.”

Robin looked at him intently, straight in the eye.

“She’s my teammate too!” Wally cried suddenly, banging his fist on the cabinet. “What aren’t you telling me about Artemis, huh? What’s such a secret?”

Robin removed his sunglasses, polishing the lenses with the cloth of his jacket. His cerulean blue eyes glinted in the late afternoon sunlight of Wally’s kitchen, clear and unreadable. Wally knew it was a lost cause. “I’d tell you to ask her yourself, but she’s not ready yet. Give her time.”

~*~


	21. culinary

_culinary: pertaining to the kitchen_

~*~

“Oh my freaking God,” Wally groaned. “This Atlantian omelet is literally the best thing to have ever passed my lips.”

“It tastes like—like—” Superboy stuttered, trying to find the right words.

“Like rainbows and puppies,” Robin finished, gulping down his last delicious forkful of cheesy egg, peppers, and bacon. The rest of the team stared at him. “What?”

“Not gonna ask how _you_ know what puppies taste like,” Artemis said, raising an eyebrow at him. “But these are seriously amazing, Kal. Better than my mom’s, and she’s no slouch.”

“I’ve never had an omelet before!” M’gann said, levitating her plate over to the sink and dropping it into soapy water. “Are all of them that incredible?”

“Nope.”

“Not even close.”

“Hell no, Kal’s got magical Atlantian cooking skills,” Wally bragged. “Hey, wait a second—Kaldur, did you make these using magic or something? Not that I believe in magic or anything, but what you consider magic, I guess—”

Kaldur shook his head and smiled. “None whatsoever.”

Superboy stood up and walked over to Kaldur. The whole team leaned forward in anticipation, knowing that Conner was probably going to make some aggressive comment for no apparent reason and then leave suddenly like an irritated child. It was one of those regularly occurring things that they all sort of expected by now, which was why what happened next was even stranger.

“Conner…” Kaldur began wonderingly. “Are you _hugging me?”_

It kind of looked that way, what with Conner’s arms crushing Kaldur’s ribcage in a bear-like impression of a hug. Conner even appeared to be...

“Oh my God, is he _crying?”_ Wally said incredulously.

Conner stood back and strongly grasped Kaldur’s shoulders, ignoring his and the rest of the team’s bewildered stares. “That was the best damn omelet I’ve ever had—no, the best damn food I’ve ever had.”

Then Superboy strode out of the room, weeping delicately.

Artemis’s fork clattered to the floor. Robin’s sunglasses nearly dropped into his lap. No one noticed.

“Who’s all for pretending that never happened?” Wally squeaked.

“Uh…yeah…”

“I don’t know how to respond to this…”

“This is like one of those crack fics…” Robin pondered. Everyone turned to stare at him for the second time in five minutes. “Hey, it’s not weirder than what just happened.”

~*~


	22. cursory

_cursory: going rapidly over a thing without taking in details_

~*~

“Sooo…where are we?”

“That’s totally encouraging, considering you’re the ‘navigator.’”

“Well, _you’re_ the driver, so you should know where we’re going since you’re in charge of the steering wheel.”

“Tt. My job is to be focused on the road, not the signs. If you weren’t so busy munching your way through our meager supply of chips, you would probably know. Since it’s your job and all. By the way, could you save any of those for me?”

“Sorry, speedster’s metabolism.”

“Yeah, and look at who’s doing all the work here.”

“Hey, remind me again—why do you get to drive? I’m pretty sure I look closer to sixteen than _you_ do.”

“Oh please. I totally look sixteen.”

“Dude, your feet don’t even reach the pedals without some serious stretching.”

“Wally, do you know why you need to be quiet right now?”

“Oh, do enlighten me, Dick.”

“Because _shut up,_ Wally, that’s why.”

“Only if you tell me which city and/or town we’re closest to.”

“…”

“…You don’t even know which state we’re in, do you.”

“I’ve narrowed it down to Mississippi, Minnesota, Oregon, Kansas, or possibly Canada.”

“Awesome. Are we gonna need passports?”

“Already got ‘em.”

“Ah, the joys of utility belts.”

“Just eat your chips.”

“Don’t worry, Robs, I speak perfect Canada-nese.”

“That’s why I’m worried.”

~*~


	23. cynical

_cynical: distrustful of human nature and motives_

_~*~_

Her apartment was dead silent when Artemis swung through her bedroom window, and that’s when she knew there was going to be trouble. She strung her bow in preparation and followed her instincts down the hall, pulse quickening and fingers steady.

She was tired; a long night of patrol with Green Arrow followed by the mountains of homework she knew she had wasn’t going to leave much time for sleep, and Artemis was already exhausted from the difficult mission the team had pulled last week. Any thieves of ‘funny pranksters” (Wally had better watch his ass) were going to get it—

Her feet froze at the entrance of the kitchen. Artemis felt the blood congeal in her veins.

Seeing her mom in the kitchen—that was nothing alarming. Seeing her dad with her mom in the kitchen…

Not only was it alarming, it brought back painful memories of when it had been expected.

“Artemis…” her mother exclaimed, surprised. She looked weary, hunched over in her wheelchair as if in defeat.

“Hey baby girl,” her father said quietly. He was leaning casually against the counter, dressed in his usual jeans, combat boots, and a black-and-yellow Gotham Knights t-shirt. She remembered that t-shirt. It was the one he always wore around the house. Artemis acutely recalled the nights she spent clenching that t-shirt and smelling its warm clean cotton smell and wishing her dad was there instead of out doing a job.

“Dad,” she said shortly, lowering her bow warily.

“What are you doing on a team?” he rumbled. That was her father, straight ot the point. Her mother always said the apple didn’t fall far from the tree in that aspect.

“Oh, you know. A hobby,” Artemis replied flippantly.

“Don’t start. How did you get involved with _heroes?”_ he spat, staring at her intently.

“I didn’t ever want to join the family business, if that’s what you were implying,” Artemis retorted. “What do you want?”

“Wanted to check up on you,” her dad said. “Haven’t seen you around much.”

“Oh, I’ll be seeing you, dad,” Artemis said tightly, pulling her half-cowl over her head and shaking her ponytail free. “The next time you pull a job, I’ll be there—with my team.”

Her father snorted. “Baby girl, you’re in over your head.”

“Don’t call me that!” Artemis yelled. “Just—get out! Go! I don’t want you here! _Go!”_

Her father walked towards the door. He turned around at the last minute. “Artemis—”

Seeing her stony glare, her father sighed and left.

Ignoring her mother’s pleading calls to wait and let her explain herself, Artemis stomped down the hall back to her bedroom. She turned on the light and cursed as the bulb flickered and died. Artemis trudged across the room to close her window.

A plump tangerine moon hung over Gotham, and the smoky perfume of the city wafted through Artemis’s bedroom. She sighed and reached out to shut the window. Artemis froze for the second time that night, feeling paper brush against her skin. Her hand trembled as she ripped the note taped to the window sill and held it up to be read by the dim light of that swollen harvest moon.

_Look under the bed._

Artemis pulled up the bedcovers, peering underneath.

There was that black-and-yellow Gotham Knights t-shirt. She held it to her chest, marveling at the still-soft fabric. Abruptly, Artemis threw it on the floor.

_I refuse to believe you’re coming back this time._

~*~


	24. decorum

_decorum: orderliness_

~*~

“Oh my God, Kaldur…” Wally breathed in amazement.

“This…this is the eighth wonder of the world,” Robin stated grandly, waving his arms around wildly to express his unadulterated joy.

Artemis walked further into the room, reaching forward as if to touch something, and then recoiling as if she thought she’d break it. M’gann trailed behind her, gasping in awe.

"I don’t really see what’s so wonderful about a clean room,” Conner grumbled in confusion, stubbornly standing in the doorway of his leader’s bedroom.

The four others turned around and stared at him in shock.

“What?” It was times like these that Conner thought that _he_ was the most normal one of his team. Robin and Wally were usually the only ones who dragged him places to show him their definition of ‘wonderful things,’ but this time it seemed the girls were in on it too. He sighed and wished Kaldur were actually here to modestly rebut his apparent marvel of a bedroom.

“Robin…? Wally? What are you all doing here?” Kaldur entered the room, ducking underneath Conner’s crossed arms. _Speak of the devil…_ “Is something wrong?”

“Kaldur! Just the man we wanted to see,” Wally welcomed, beaming. “You can explain to Conner why your room is such a masterpiece, right?”

Kaldur thankfully looked just as confused as Conner felt. “Ah…no.”

Wally looked appalled. “That, dear sir, is a travesty. How can you not explain the art you’ve created here?”

Kaldur smiled ruefully. “Wally, as an Atlantian citizen with a passion for magic, I learned how to be very organized, not only with my spells but with my lifestyle. I know to someone of your low standards this is a miracle, but it is not.”

“Ooh, burn,” Artemis laughed, clapping Kaldur on the back.

Wally, as could be expected, was very offended. “The hell, Kal? I thought we were bros!”

Kaldur smiled a tad mischievously. “All in good fun, my friend.”

“This room—it really _is_ just so neat! Can you teach me how to organize my recipes? I’ve got boxes of them scattered all over my room!” M’gann gushed.

“Certainly,” Kaldur said, ever gracious.

“You’re so nice!” M’gann giggled.

“Insufferably so,” Wally and Conner muttered at the same time.

~*~


	25. deference

_deference: respectful submission; respectful regard_

~*~

“Sooo…I guess letting the bad guys get away with essential intel on a possibly devastating death-laser-thing counts as screwing up,” Kid Flash sighed, wincing as they prepared for a royal scolding regarding their latest mission. The team timidly stood in front of the Justice League, feeling like kittens confronted by jaguars. 

“To be fair about it…we, uh, no…um…eh, we really did screw up. I really can’t spin this whole situation in any kind of positive light,” Artemis replied, shrugging. Her teammates clearly agreed with her; Robin pulled his cape tighter around his shoulders and Miss Martian wrung her hands. Aqualad appeared perfectly tranquil, but a bead of sweat dripped down the back of his neck. Superboy turned away, feeling familiar anger rise in his chest. 

“It was bad,” Batman said flatly. “You made a lot of errors in judgment that could’ve been easily avoided if you had listened to our advice.” 

“You need to learn how to be more respectful of your elders,” Barry said, smiling comically and waving a finger in mock sternness. At least _someone_ wasn’t completely irritated with them. 

“Even when they’re being stupid?” Superboy liked being a newborn clone. It gave him so many excuses for being blatantly rude. It was satisfying to be this petty; it took the edge off his anger. 

“Uh…” Barry was at a loss. “Yes?” 

Batman stepped forward. “We have more experience than you do.” 

Robin opened his mouth to speak. 

“Collectively,” Batman growled. “Until you can successfully deal with a world crisis—covertly, unlike your usual escapades—you have no business being smartasses. Got it?” 

The team nodded in slight terror. 

Batman pivoted on the heels of his very intimidating steel-toed boots and swept out of the room, leaving a dark aura behind him. The Justice League slowly trickled away behind him, leaving the team to deal with their shame and a long list of training exercises and chores. 

“That was fun,” Kid Flash idly commented. 

~*~


	26. déjà vu

_déjà vu: the illusion of remembering an event that hasn't happened_

~*~

There are so many thick clouds of noxious green gas enveloping him. Robin fumbles for his re-breather. Fumbles because his right hand is shiny with burns and his left has three broken fingers. He drops it, cursing, and resigns himself to a long and painfully difficult night.

The coughing starts, seeded deep in his chest. That’s what Joker venom does; it drives the life from your lungs. _Or is this Scarecrow gas?_

He doesn’t have the best memory tonight. _What am I doing here again…?_

Robin stumbles forward, clawing through the smoke and trying to find a way out. That’s when he sees M’gann.

“What…what are you doing here?” he gasps, lungs seizing.

She smiles pityingly. “I’m here for _you,_ silly.”

She lunges forward, morphing into some grotesque white creature hell-bent on his destruction. He throws his arms over his face; not the best protection, but this _must_ be a mind trick, a mirage. Luckily for him, it is. He watches those gleaming red eyes dissipate into the green smoke.

Shaken but steady he turns away, trudging through the warehouse. The smoke is beginning to lift. It was never meant to linger, just—

_—to kill._

Robin shivers and moves on. The room is spinning, but he knows it for what it really is. _He’s_ the one spinning. He turns again to see Conner guarding the exit doors.

The clone’s arms are crossed and his back is ramrod straight. Conner looks angry and sullen, which is all wrong because he’s been so much better about that recently. _Illusion, that’s all this is!_ Robin thinks urgently, but that thought is beginning to feel less real. He strides forward, ready to push through this hallucination, so he’s very surprised when this hallucination pushes back. Robin blinks up at Conner in mute disbelief.

Conner’s eyes blink back, blink into a dull dark red.

Robin gets to his feet—not an easy feat at this point, he’s tired and his ankle is maybe sprained—and pushes back, and only then does Conner disappear.

Outside, the night air is hot and suffocating. He tries to contact Batman, but his com link gives a feeble burst of static and dies. _Perfect._

Robin decides to limp back to their agreed meeting spot—the intersection of Glades Avenue and Ronin Street, right by the warehouses—when, as he’s come to expect, another teammate shows up.

It’s Kid Flash, which especially hurts because of every teammate he has, Wally is his best friend and that will never change. Robin winces. 

Kid Flash strolls forward, seemingly at ease, and Robin can immediately tell that he’s not real because there’s no way Wally could be ever be that graceful. This Kid Flash walks delicately, like a predator waiting for the moment to pounce. He cocks his head at Robin.

“Go away,” Robin breathes harshly. “I’ve been through this before, you’re not really here. Got places to be right now, so just…go.” He coughs weakly, making a shooing motion with his hand and praying for the best. Of course that would be way too easy.

“Cute,” Fake-Wally sneers. “ _Real cute._ Trust me, bird boy, this— _this_ is all real.”

Robin has just enough energy left to laugh. “That so?”

Fake-Wally zips closer—too close, actually. “Let me tell you something, Boy Blunder. I may not be ‘real,’ as you so call it, but I represent everything you know your buddy Flash Boy thinks of you.”

Robin shuffles forward, past Fake-Wally, and starts making his way to the checkpoint. If he can only get to the checkpoint, he’ll be okay. _That’s all I need to do,_ he thinks dazedly.

Fake-Wally catches up easily, a cruel mockery of his beloved comrade. “Come on, we both know he thinks you’re a freak,” he taunts. “Who wouldn’t?”

An estimated half mile to go. Robin grits his teeth.

Fake-Wally jeers at his slow progress. “What a baby. A couple of bruises and he’s reduced to a snail’s pace. Richard John Grayson, everyone!” He waves his arms winningly at an imaginary crowd.

The mention of his secret identity is enough to make Robin cringe. Fake-Wally notices and smiles, pleased. “Can’t hide from me, Dickie! I’m part of _your_ mind, after all.”

Robin is less than halfway through that half mile. Blood trickles down his temple and a wave of nausea hits him. This is getting more complicated by the second.

Fake-Wally prods at the head wound with a ghostly finger. “God, _humans._ So fragile. Shouldn’t play in the big leagues, kid. You’ll never make it, you or any other non-meta.”

Robin doesn’t spare him a glance at this point.

Fake-Wally frowns. “Wow. You’re pathetic. I almost feel sorry for you.” He taps his chin thoughtfully. “Well, I guess that _is_ the reason he hangs out with you. Why else would anyone spend time with a resentful orphaned circus weirdo? You’re nothing but an amusing carnival trick, something to be pitied.”

For a second, Robin forgets Fake-Wally is fake. It’s enough for him to throw a few punches in Fake-Wally’s direction, sloppy with rage. Fake-Wally dances back, laughing.

“Ooh, did that hurt? _Good.”_

Fake-Wally won’t stop laughing now, chuckles and guffaws and snickers that grate on Robin’s ears. He falls to his knees, bitterly exhausted. He looks up in time to see Fake-Wally’s eyes glow an arrogant red. Something snaps in Robin—in Dick.

“Go away!” he yells wildly. “ _You’re not real! Leave!”_

His gloved hands scramble for the Birdarangs in his belt. His hands are shaking as he unsuccessfully attempts to aim one at Fake-Wally.

“Whoa, watch it! It’s me, Artemis!”

Startled, Robin drops the Birdarang. “W-what?”

He blinks and his vision clears enough for Fake-Wally to fade into the night. Instead, it’s Artemis, all suited up and extending a cautious hand. “Don’t be afraid. This isn’t a trick.”

“Are you real?” Robin asks tiredly.

“No, but I’m not here to hurt you,” Artemis replies. She smiles a little sadly at him. Robin believes her. Her expression is all genuine concern; that, real or not, is most definitely _Artemis_. “Let’s get you home. Where’s Batman?”

“Intersection of Glades Avenue and Ronin Street,” Robin says. His head _burns._

“Right. Up you go.” Her phantom hands guide him back to a standing position. “Let’s go.”

“You’ll stay?” he asks hoarsely, voice desperate.

“As long as you need me,” she says, patting his arm reassuringly. “Not every hallucination is the product of Joker Venom or Scarecrow gas. I’ve got your back.”

“You’re a defense mechanism,” Robin realizes. “My own mind trying to protect me.”

“As long as you need me,” she repeats. “Let’s go.”

Forty-five minutes later, Batman finds him collapsed at the intersection, mumbling thanks to an invisible archer.

Another long and painfully difficult night done, and thousands to go.

He’ll need whatever help he can get.

~*~


	27. dichtomy

_dichotomy: a division of two exclusive groups_

~*~

“You know the four words I hate the most?” Robin seethed, kicking his boots up onto the coffee table. “‘You don’t have superpowers.’ Honestly, as if we needed them.”

“It’s annoying as hell.” Artemis agreed, slumping beside him on the couch. She handed him a Coke and took a long gulp of her lemonade. “I mean, hello. Gotham City dwellers.”

“Yeah! Seriously, every really dangerous and homicidal villain lives in Gotham. Two-Face, Joker, Poison Ivy, Scarecrow, Killer Crock…” Robin listed, counting off his fingers. “Not that it’s awesome worrying about whether I’ll be mugged on my way home from school, but…”

“I just wish they wouldn’t baby us,” Artemis mumbled.

Robin leaped up, furiously agitated. “What say you and I train for a bit by ourselves, shall we? A friendly spar, perhaps?”

Artemis smiled slowly. “You’re on, Wonder Boy.”

~*~


	28. empathy

_empathy: intellectual identification or vicarious experience of another's thoughts, emotions, or attitude_

~*~

M’gann collapsed beneath her covers, curling up into a ball and pulling the blankets over her head. One day, a million little things gone wrong. Days like this were rare, but they happened to everyone—at least, that’s what Kaldur said. M’gann still felt like screaming into her pillow.

Breathing in, she reached out telepathically, looking for some kind of reassurance.

In the kitchen, Wally flared bright red, all bravado and cheesy charm. It made sense because Artemis was in close proximity, glowing an amused dark violet. They were lightly quarreling, probably over something stupid. M’gann smiled as she imagined them arguing over who got the last slice of cold pizza or whose turn it was to do dishes.

She extended her mind towards the training rooms. Kaldur was, of course, a cool soothing blue. He was in his happy place, swimming in the specially filtered saltwater pool that the rest of the team had begged the adults to install for the sake of their friend. Kaldur had loved it immediately, spending his free time doing laps.

Robin was on the acrobatic equipment. He was moving very fast, twisting and spinning and leaping from heights that she would not have braved without her telepathy. He was a soft spring green, the very color of euphoria. M’gann felt tears in her eyes just being in that presence; she moved on to find Conner.

Ah, Conner. A gentle, rich yellow. He was moving down a hallway slowly, considerately. She questioned his thoughts, not willing to go any closer for fear he would sense her. To her surprise, he stopped just outside her bedroom door.

Perhaps this would not be such a bad day, M’gann thought. She smiled and opened her eyes.

~*~


	29. emulation

_emulation: effort or desire to equal or excel others_

~*~

The sizzling black asphalt of the track tempted him from his classroom. It was a hot day in early June, ripe for the picking. Wally could’ve just _died_ sitting there, never able to fulfill his temporary desires, forever glued to an uncomfortable desk. School was such a waste of time; time he could’ve spent out there. He longingly watched the trees outside sway in the wind. 

And just when he was about to scream from the pure agony of it all, the bell rung. School was done for the summer. Wally West was free.

He was the first one out of the room. As his feet pounded the hallway tile, colorful dreams flew through his head, things like _speed_ and _lightning_ and _the Flash._ He had so many ideas and only limited time to try them all. 

Nine-year-old Wally West wanted to be like the Flash more than anything, and that’s what got him here today. 

~*~


	30. entourage

_entourage: surroundings_

~*~

“You know, out of all the creepy places we’ve ever been held prisoners in, this takes the cake,” Robin said thoughtfully, attempting to scratch his ear. It was a difficult task with the heavy manacles fastening his arms and legs securely to the wall of their dungeon.

And yes, it was a real dungeon—a crumbling stone cavern shoved underground, outfitted with plenty of chains and well-used torture devices, if the numerous blood splatters were anything to go by. Icy cold water dripped from rumbling pipes above their heads and nurtured the lichen growing in the shadows near the walls. The team was trussed up in shackles; all had locks that were unpickable, and some were overlaid with glowing charms preventing super strength, Martian telepathy, and super speed from breaking through. Robin and Artemis’s extra gadgets like her bow and his gloves and utility belt were missing.

“I’m going to have to agree with you there,” Artemis sighed. “Isn’t this a wonderful new experience to add to my scrapbook of superhero mishaps? If only I had a camera.”

“Yeah, this is a perfect Kodak moment,” Superboy deadpanned.

“Who is behind this?” Aqualad wondered. “Are we being held for ransom or execution?”

“Well, whoever managed to hire enough thugs to capture _us_ has to have some serious cash, which explains the extravagant theatricality,” Robin reasoned.

“Hey, try to look on the bright side—they left us a window.” Kid Flash cheerfully pointed up at a tiny barred hole, draped in cobwebs. It let in only a small spot of light, enough for them to see each others’ faces.

“It’s kind of cute,” Miss Martian said out of the blue. Her teammates stared at her in slight disbelief. “What? It’s so cheesy that it makes it cute. Like a Disney dungeon would be.”

“True, true, very true,” Wally replied, considering the dungeon in a new light. “I’m actually kind of flattered that someone went to all this trouble for us.”

 _“I always provide the best accommodations for my guests,”_ a silky voice reverberated throughout the room. The team searched the dungeon in confusion, not seeing anyone. They realized the voice must have originated from some hidden set of loudspeakers.

_"You may be wondering why exactly you are here. However, I’m not about to tell you. You may call me Barrett. It’s not my real name, but it’s a fitting substitute.”_

The team looked at each other with even more confusion. This was a weird kidnapping.

“I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but kidnapping six young superheroes with ties to the Justice League is not exactly going to go unnoticed,” Wally argued. “So…if you’re gonna try to kill us, you better do it fast because they’ll be here momentarily.”

_"I most certainly don’t plan on killing you. That would entirely defeat the purpose of my plans for you.”_

“Okay,” Aqualad said, puzzled. “Are we being held for ransom? Do you want an enormous amount of money? Or perhaps technology? Maybe a weapon?”

_"Ah…no.”_

The team waited for the voice to elaborate, but it never did. The voice sounded like an American man in his mid-to-late forties. Beyond those general details, they could not discern anything about this Barrett.

“Um…maybe you’re going to torture us? For Justice League secrets?” Artemis guessed, looking around at all the equipment suitable for such a purpose.

_"You’re only sidekicks. What would you know about the Justice League’s most valuable secrets?”_

“What?!” Kid Flash yelled in outrage. “You didn’t just—”

Aqualad lifted a hand to stop him in mid-rant. “Perhaps that is the ransom you seek, then?”

 _"If I really wanted to know the Justice League’s secrets, I would’ve just removed your masks and discovered your identities. From there I would’ve figured out your mentors’ identities and blackmailed them with that. That would be so much simpler, don’t you think? No blackmail that I have to lock up in my dungeon.”_ The voice seemed highly amused.

“Then what the hell do you want?” Kid Flash asked in exasperation.

_"I want you to escape.”_

The team exchanged _really_ confused glances.

“If this is a joke, it’s a really bad one,” Superboy warned the voice.

_"It’s not, so I suggest you get started. I’ll give you twenty minutes before I flood the room. Oh, and after that, I’ll release venomous water snakes into the room so you have extra company. Have fun, and watch out for poisonous spikes!”_

The voice’s presence seemed to vanish from the dungeon.

“Excellent. He’s just crazy,” Robin said, rolling his eyes. “That sorts that out.”

"So how are we gonna get out of here?” Kid Flash said, looking around at his team. “These things are pretty solid. I don’t think we’re going to be able to pick these locks—Rob, what are you doing?”

Robin had extended his manacles underneath a trickle of water from the leaky pipes above them. He made sure his wrists were wet. Then, concentrating hard, he popped his hands out of the manacles. The team stared at him in shock.

“What kind of dumbass would go to the trouble of kidnapping us but not make sure our restraints fit properly?” Kid Flash questioned. Robin shrugged.

“I’m not complaining,” Robin replied. He then twisted his ankles around and pulled one foot after the other out of his boots. Robin hopped onto the cold dungeon floor, barefoot. “Anyone else see that conveniently placed ring of keys hanging on a hook across the room?”

“He seriously wanted us to escape, didn’t he,” Superboy said in amazement.

“Yeah,” Kid Flash said, narrowing his eyes. “There is totally another motive behind this. I’m betting on sharks with laser beams attached to their heads swimming in a pool beneath a trap door, say…thirty feet beyond the door.”

“Regardless…” Robin grabbed his boots and slipped them back on. He retrieved the keys, taking a moment beside each of his teammates to release their restraints. Each team member rubbed their raw wrists and ankles.

Kid Flash sped over to the door. “It’s not even locked!”

"Move aside.” Superboy strode up to the door and shoved it hard. The door flew back and slammed into a guard, who had been completely unaware of the danger he’d just stepped into.

The team ran through the decrepit stone hallways, occasionally taking out a dimwitted guard or two. Kid Flash sped through every possible way out and reported back to the team as to which ones were best. “There are so many escape routes that it’s not even funny,” he hissed furiously. “What kind of moron is this guy?”

The team continued through the strange labyrinth. As they sprinted up a flight of stairs, Miss Martian said, “We must be about ground level now, don’t you think?”

Eventually Kid Flash discovered an unlocked exit door. Aqualad approved their hastily formed plan, and they approached it warily. It was the perfect spot for an ambush, but they were ready.

Aqualad kicked down the door. Behind it lay a street in the heart of the industrial empire known as Steel City, semi-deserted in the twilit evening. The team looked around in tired apathy.

“I’d be shocked but…nah. Not worth the effort,” Robin muttered.

“I vote we take note of the address and come back to clean up tomorrow. Whoever was behind this is long gone anyway, and we can just question a hired thug or two later. They won’t be up for awhile, not with how hard Superboy punched their faces in,” Artemis proposed.

Robin scribbled the address on his bare wrist with a pen he found in the gutter. “Gotta make do, what with missing my gauntlets and all. That was annoying.”

“Let’s find the nearest zeta-tube and blow this popsicle stand!” Kid Flash declared. The team trailed after him wearily.

~*~

“Well, that was quite enjoyable,” the same voice the team had heard an hour or two before confessed. It was noticeably different, however; it was the same man, but another style of voice. It quickly became apparent that it was not the talk of an American man in his forties, but rather a British man in his late sixties.

“Your acting skills haven’t rusted a bit,” Bruce Wayne replied, smirking slightly as he turned around to face his computers.

Alfred Pennyworth placed a tray of delicious-looking sandwiches in front of him. “What did you tell Master Dick of your latest training exercise?”

“Nothing. I wanted him to be as surprised as the others.”

“Well, you certainly did surprise them. How much harder will these ‘training exercises’ get?”

“Oh.” Bruce Wayne—the goddamn Batman—smirked even more ominously. _“Much_ harder.”

~*~


	31. entrepreneur

_entrepreneur: businessman_

~*~

Wally West knew how to bargain.

From a young age, he had watched his mother argue back and forth relentlessly with reluctant merchants at garage sales and flea markets. She had been good at it, too. Wally had once gotten five well-used t-shirts, a box of old baseball cards, and a new lamp for only two dollars. His mother knew how to turn a sale in her favor, and this was knowledge she had readily passed on to her son. It was time to use it.

“One date,” he pleaded. “Then I’ll never ask again, _ever.”_

M’gann bit her lip. “Um, Wally. I just don’t think we’d work out. We should just…be friends, you know?”

“Oh no, I am not gonna be banished to the friendzone _that_ easily,” Wally moaned. “Listen, Megs, sometimes you gotta take a chance, or you’ll never know what you missed out on. We don’t know each other that well right now, but…we could.”

She sighed. “Wally, Conner and I…I think we’re almost what you would consider ‘dating.’”

“What?” No freaking way, where the hell had that come from?! He’d never noticed anything like…like _that_ between Conner and Megs!

“Yes…” She patted his shoulder affectionately. “But I think we could be really good friends! You’re a neat guy.”

M’gann walked away to the kitchen, humming happily and seemingly alright with the death of their unborn relationship. Wally cursed and slammed his head against the nearest wall. His talent for haggling did not appear to extend to picking up girls.

~*~


End file.
